


Not So Easily Forgotten

by korik



Series: A Dissertation in Memories [3]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, He means well but it was selfish, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korik/pseuds/korik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was inspired at work to do my own version of the ending of WS #14, at least with the consequences of James running from Nat, and her to follow, angry, as I think she would be, at this stranger who carries memories that she wants, and were of her life. A warning in advance, I have no sense of tenses at the moment, I haven't slept in over 24 hours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Easily Forgotten

The gun at her side is a sense of familiarity, as natural as the red of her hair. She will never remember a time again, with that perfect clarity that comes from the space between asleep and awake, when it had not been there. She carries it for comfort, but can’t help the flinch of her skin when, in the shade of the agent she had tracked down glares at it, glares at her as though she had stabbed him.

“What are you so afraid of, Mr. Barnes?” It’s still hard to believe the story, hard to see how the man before her, halfway metastasized with a strange grief as harsh as the gleaming metal of his false arm, was once a feared sleeper agent, let alone the reputable “Bucky” from so many years ago.

“Why are you here?”

A question for an answer. Nat tried to not heave a sigh, crossing her arms, picking with feigned disgust at a speck of color on the white jacket.

“As I said earlier, we have business.”

He is suspicious, but worn, with dark circles under his eyes and a growing mop of unkempt, earth brown hair. Topped with a bachelor’s taste in upkeep as his throne room, throw in a bottle or two, and you had the recipe for a man obviously depressed. “I’m sure you already know we have nothing to conduct -”

The master assassin narrowed her eyes, her entire body stiffening with anger. “Bullshit we are; you may not, but I sure as hell do.” She swallowed back the venom, flicking her eyes absently across his rough face as a reminder. “You left me while I was under observation in the hospital, I still keep finding your socks amongst mine.” Keeping her breath even, she continued, trying to grasp through the dark to the untouchable. “It wasn’t business, and you know it. It was personal.”

She watches as he runs his live hand through his hair, grabbing at the strands that seem to so easily disobey him. “So what do you want from me - ”

That was it. She barks out: “Stop avoiding me, I want the truth, Barnes!” Her hands wanted to tear into his throat, force him to look at her. “Were you afraid of the consequences of a high profile relationship? Afraid of taking the hard with the soft?” Her lips curled, and she tried not to hiss: “Not everything is a basket of Roses.”

He looks stunned, eyes wide, and for a few moments, she watches the construction of walls and barricades shudder, heaving, creaking.

She continued, the momentary pause cooling some anger at being so easily dismissed, maybe forgotten. “Our lives will never be easy, but don’t forget that you aren’t alone. And after how many years in this business have I been watching my own ass, anyway?”

He still said nothing, watching, maybe curious, maybe waiting still for that gun of hers to point and take his head off.

She could only sigh, reaching up and gathering strands of her hair into her hands. “I’m too old for this kid’s stuff, Barnes.”

From a delicate strand of curls came the twisted paper with the fine cursive she usually used when angry imprinted on its warped surface. To the counter top next to her it went, hovering, poised. “Give this to anyone else and I’ll have your head.”

Natasha didn’t wait for his response, just simply made her exit, gloved fingers delicately turning the knob before she disappeared down the hall.

It was his move now.


End file.
